A deep gash ran through its center, cutting open its skin
My spirit fell, as I held it in my hand gently with a napkin
Bought after much research and reviews of the reviews
It was top of the line non-stick pan with designer views
For months, we had cared for it in the best possible way
Silicone spatulas, sponge scrubs, and gel soap to sway
But that day, it was picked up by the maid among others
And exposed to third-degree torture just like its brothers
No allowance was given for surface, stain, or sentiment
Every one bore the same share of drubbing and detergent
As it was left to dry itself in the tub, I grasped my goof-up
and rushed to its rescue but I knew the grave was dug up
Guilty, I tried to heal the wound but it was a lost struggle
With moist eyes, it was time to sound the farewell bugle
You were a dear pan! I choked, unable to bear the drills
It was time to put it into the joint drawer for all utensils!
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